On one of the afternoons I spent in Nashville with my friend, Pat, we went in search of a bakery that was listed online as “one of the best bakeries in Nashville”. We used her car’s GPS to find it; the area was quite busy as it was Sunday but we managed to find a free parking spot and Pat maneuvered into it. It was a beautiful day so we were looking forward to walking a couple of blocks to the bakery.
It was a really interesting neighborhood and Pat told me it was called 12 South – about a half mile stretch on 12th Avenue South – filled with restaurants, clothing stores, vintage clothing stores, an outdoor market, jewelry store, donut bakery, art gallery and a cookie shop. Lots and lots of folks were walking about, shopping and sitting in outdoor areas of the restaurants. Lots of dogs too.
The only problem was that the median age of everybody in the neighborhood appeared to be 30-25. Tops. I’m not kidding; Pat and I were the oldest people walking around. It certainly didn’t feel unsafe (and I did enjoy petting a lot of dogs) but I did feel a little out of place. I commented to Pat that maybe we needed passports to be in 12 South.
I never took any Psychology classes during any of my college years. I have nothing against Psychology (and have benefited from it greatly during my life) but I just wanted to get my science requirements out of the way and Psych wasn’t offered when I needed a science class. Most of my psychology education comes from various Scientific American articles I’ve read over the years.
I think it’s safe to say that as a parent, one REALLY needs psychology. You just can’t make it through parenthood without figuring out your kids AND figuring out how to get your kids motivated to do what they need to get done. YA is almost 28 and I still struggle with this occasionally.
One of the things I have figured out is that sometimes you have to come at her sideways. She is too cool to get enthusiastic over some of my projects; when I brought home the haunted house kit (see photo above), she turned up her nose at it a bit. If she had been with me when I purchased it, she would have indicated it was not a good idea. But a few days ago I said “I’m going to do the haunted house tonight if you want to help”. She responded with a non-committal grunt but when I got everything set up on the dining room table, she showed up. And she did most of the decorating herself. This works pretty much all of the time… Easter egg dying, jigsaw puzzles, yardwork, cookie decorating. It even worked once on a snorkel sail when she was crabby and I said “Fine, you don’t have to go… I’ll see you later.”
If you take this route though, you have to be prepared to do the project by yourself; I think you really have to believe this or they hear it in your voice and then you’re sunk!
As you read this today, I am, I hope, winging my way back to North Dakota from a conference. I am slated to arrive back home in time to start handing out treats.
The organization putting on the workshop I attended always has a big party the Friday we meet. It is surprising how wild middle-aged lawyers, government appointees, and State regulators can get. This time it was described as a Halloween party, and everyone was encouraged to bring costumes. We come from all over the US and Canada for this meeting, and it was amazing how many brought costumes. I considered bringing a Venetian carnival mask, but I was worried it would be damaged during the trip, and I couldn’t really wear a mask over my glasses, so I demurred. There were lots of witches, a monk, doctors in scrubs, the Phantom of the Opera, and Brittany Spears, to name a few. I wore a skirt outfit, and told people it was my expert witness costume, as I often wear the same outfit to court.
During the days before the party, some of my female colleagues and I were amused by the antics of a younger male attendee whose demeanor and presentation left no doubt that he thought very well of himself, and who knew he was a very handsome fellow. To our delight, he came to the costume party dressed as Jesus. It was perfect!
What was your best Halloween costume? Dressing up tonight?
Been nice, sunny, warm-(ish) weather this week and looks nice into the coming week. Good time to get all those outdoor summer projects finished up.
We ended the growing season with about 3000 GDU’s, +200 above normal. Last year was +511.
Rosie and Guildy are fine, but they barely come out of their pen, and they’re not mingling with the others, and it will certainly complicate winter chores if those two keep being so anti-social. In a slight attempt at unification, I moved their water buckets a few feet further away and took the fence down. We’ll see.
This week was all about getting the college show up and running. It opened Thursday. It was mostly ready. Set was finished (well, to a point) and the paint was dry. Costumes… well… we made do. And it wasn’t for lack of ambition or determination by the costumer, it’s just that, well, life happens. So, it wouldn’t do the director or I any good to get mad; we know she was trying. And we had a good laugh about how we would have handled this 20 years ago. I said I would have had to take his clipboard away. (The joke is he used to throw it across the stage. Course now it’s an iPad) Now we sigh, and we laugh, and we know it will work out somehow.) And we go home and complain to our spouses.
There’s always one set piece that’s a challenge. I have a ‘ball of fire’ that the Fire Troll pulls. (That joke was “Fire BOWL?” or “Fire BALL?”) A wood frame, some plastic tubing wrapped around it, muslin soaked in paint covering it all. Painted yellows and reds. And then inside some fans blowing streamers up to be flames. I can’t imagine why that didn’t work. Sounded like a good idea! Evidently there is a lot more physics involved in air movement than I imagined. This was my ‘do-fer’ one night.
I walk past these photos every day.
The farm in about 1930 something.
An arial view of the farm in the mid to late 1950’s.
My Grandparents, before my Dad was added to the mix so this is about 1924.
And then this family, my grandparents and uncles. Don’t know who they are, but I can’t get over how tiny the mother is! Eleven kids!
Ever had a ‘Tiny Grandma’?
Have you mellowed or gotten feistier in the last 20 years?
I was very sad and alarmed to learn the other day that a billion snow crabs have disappeared from the waters around Alaska, and there will be no snow crab harvest this year. I can’t imagine the price of snow crab going forward. I really like snow crab, and I will miss having it.
I am currently in a Maryland resort on the Potomac River, and I had the best lobster roll last night that I have ever eaten. I never liked sea food growing up in rural Minnesota, but I have learned to love fish and shell fish as an adult. Our son likes sea food. Our daughter still doesn’t, but I hope she will develop a liking for it given she lives on Puget Sound.
Where did a billion snow crabs go? When will they return? What are we doing to our oceans? I hope that I can still enjoy a good lobster roll in years to come.
What is your favorite fish dish? What foods did you not like as a child that you like now?
You all know that I am a little obsessed with Murder on the Orient Express and Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie. Just recently I finally splurged and purchased the David Suchet as Poirot version of Death on the Nile. I’ve watched it repeatedly since it arrived and despite having seen it previously, I was surprised to find the Simon Doyle character saying “Bob’s your uncle” in the market scene. From context it clearly meant “there you have it” or “easy peasy”. I was fascinated so headed to the internet to figure out exactly what it meant and where it got started.
The more prevalent explanation is that it came about when Robert Cecil, the Conservative British prime minister appointed his unqualified nephew Arthur Balfour as Chief Secretary to Ireland back in 1887. Since Arthur was clearly not fit for the job “Bob’s your uncle” became the explanation about his selection. Of course, this account is controversial as the phrase can’t be found in any print reference until almost 40 years later. But this is the etymology that I like.
So imagine my surprise when just two weeks later, in a restaurant in Chattanooga (during my trip to Nashville), I stumbled upon Bob’s Your Uncle Hard Cider on the menu. I almost never do alcohol at lunch but I had to make an exception this time. I even managed to remember the source of the name.
And as if “Bob’s your uncle” hasn’t fallen into my path enough, last week one of the YouTube channels that I follow did a list of popular idioms and it was titled “Bob’s Your Uncle”. Apparently the phrase is fairly common in Britain, but crossing my path three times in a month seems remarkable. I keep telling myself it’s just a coincidence but….
I tend to have anxiety at the best of times, but my trip to Maryland has been one for the record books. I haven’t traveled much during the pandemic, and I haven’t flown anywhere without Husband for many years. I think Husband acts as a distraction, and his absence left me lost to my own awful imagination. I had a lot of sleep problems the two weeks before I left. My professional tricks for anxiety reduction were only marginally helpful.
I have fretted about countless small things, like was my hotel reservation ok since the confirmation email never arrived after three attempts by Marriot to send it. Of course, a weather system moved into our area bringing the first snow of the season the day I had to head to the airport. I have to drive 100 miles to the airport. There was slush, but I traveled safely. I spent the night in Bismarck since my flight left so early in the morning. I spent the night worrying whether it would be icy driving to the airport. It wasn’t.
On Tuesday I didn’t realize until after I checked my bag and went through security that the ticket agent forgot to give me a baggage claim check, so I worried all the way to DC how I would find my bag if Delta lost it. To cap the whole experience, the guy sitting next to me on the plane out of Minneapolis watched a movie about two women climbers stuck on top of a cell phone tower. I am really afraid of heights, and I tried to not to peek over at his screen, but I just couldn’t help myself. I could hardly stand it!
Well, I wrote this in my lovely hotel room in National Harbor that was waiting for me with my reservation. . My suitcase arrived when I did. The heroine was rescued from the cellphone tower, but not until she killed a vulture that attacked her and she ate it raw to give her strength to keep going. There is good weather predicted for Bismarck when I fly back. Why on earth was I so worried?
What about travel makes you anxious? What are your strategies for anxiety management?
I am traveling and will arrive at my destination this afternoon. I am getting there by plane. I am going to the most boring psychology conference in the world, and I suppose they had to have it in a pretty entertaining place to make up for all the meetings about jurisprudence, professional regulation, and licensure. I expect to hear yet again about the legal problems for regulatory boards brought upon us by the North Carolina Board of Dentistry and their attempts to put teeth whitening shops out of business!
There is a beach that proudly houses a sculpture of a 70 foot tall giant emerging from the sand. There also is a large Ferris wheel, a marina, a 3000 seat state of the art theatre, and one of the largest gaming floors outside of Las Vegas. I will not visit any of these attractions, as I don’t gamble and I don’t like large Ferris wheels. I might take a ride on a 36 foot, Americana-themed Carousel, however.
I fly into one jurisdiction, go by taxi to another jurisdiction, and will be very close to yet another jurisdiction. There will be lots of neoclassical architecture nearby, as well as an enormous library should I have some free time on my hands. I am here for six days.
Where do you think I am going, and where would you visit if you were there?
In about a week, carpenters will arrive at our home and start demolishing two of our three bathrooms. One slated for renovation is just off our bedroom. The other is in the basement.
In order to prepare for the carpenters, we had to move three large bookcases in the basement that were full of vinyl record albums, sheet music, and all our cookbooks and various other books. The carpenters need access to the basement ceiling which is under the upstairs bathroom and right above the bookcases. As long as we were moving them, Husband decided to cull what he didn’t want or need anymore. His pickup is now full of what we threw out. We are exhausted but feeling accomplished. We were able to eliminate the contents of one bookcase entirely.
Next, Husband has to move all the things from the bathroom off our bedroom (the one which he uses) into the one I use that isn’t being renovated. For a couple of weeks, we will have to share a bathroom. This means I have to go through the cupboards in my bathroom to make room for Husband’s stuff from his bathroom.
We will be “at all sixes and sevens” most of November until the renovations are done. We are spending Thanksgiving with our son and family in Brookings, so no pressure to have the house all up to snuff. I am glad we don’t do this on a regular basis. I like having a bathroom to myself.
How many bathrooms do you have? What are your experiences with remodeling. How are you at sharing?
Today’s post comes from Ben. Header photo from Kelly.
Had a few real cold mornings. It was 21° on Tuesday morning, and below freezing for a couple days this week, but it was nice in the sun. I had to break the ice out of the chickens water buckets. The buckets are still outside for now. Don’t need the heated bucket quite yet. I did turn up some of the house heat.
The chickens have certainly dropped down on egg production. I got 2 eggs one night. The next day I got 8. Then 6, then 4, then 2 again. The last couple days it’s just been 2. It’s not the weather so much as this bunch of chickens is just aging out. The chicks from this spring should start laying any time now. I do add light to the pen, as it’s the amount of day light that triggers egg production. Some people let their hens take the winter off. I figure my hens have a pretty good life so I’m OK keeping them laying.
We picked up 10 young adult guineas from my friend Dave. He has an assortment of animals, mostly it seems because he and his granddaughter spend a lot of time on Craigs list finding animals. But come winter, they need to pare it down so they all have shelter. I’ve gotten good animals from Dave. And we were down to just 2 guineas, so this is nice. Kept them locked in a side pen for a couple days to learn that this is home now. They’ve been outside the last few days and the dynamics are interesting. They mix right in with the chickens and ducks, but the two older guineas are showing them who’s boss. There are 7 dark gray, two white, and a silver one. The silver one got outside a day before the others. And now they’re all shunning that one. I don’t know if it didn’t get along before or why this is happening.
Then Thursday night, as I closed doors, I was looking to see where the new guineas had settled for the night. Evidently, they were outside behind the barn as Humphrey the dog, scared them all out. They panicked and flew every which way. I saw one go up over the barn, another off in the trees, one down in the swamp. Friday morning there was only 7. Shucks. They make enough noise I’d hope they’d all find their way back together sooner or later.
I needed to fill all the water buckets one day and I knew the hose would be froze in the morning, so I did it in the dark after I got home one night. Got a lot of slush out of the hose but at least it wasn’t frozen solid. Here’s a photo of the poufy duck and some others.
I did get the pressure washer put into the well house. It’s a cumbersome process simply because there’s not much room for me AND the pressure washer. One of us at a time fits just fine. Add in some electrical conduit and a water pipe and it’s a bit more of a challenge. But if I lift it just so, and suck my stomach in, and grunt a few times, it fits. It’s in for the winter. I could find an easier place to put it… but… this is where it’s always been.
I’ve delivered some fall straw. Some for gardeners, some for chicken raisers. One of my neighbors raises strawberries so I’ve got 150 bales still on a wagon for him to cover the plants before winter.
One day on the blog I mentioned my dad helping and how Kelly looked forward to “Dad Stories”; me telling her what he had done that day, whether it was breaking something and going home, or just making me crazy. Oddly enough, now I can’t really remember any. When I had the Deutz tractor, it had a manual parking brake by the seat. A mechanical one you pulled up to set, then turned and pushed down to release. It wasn’t a very good parking brake given how many times we drove off with it still engaged. Dad did that often. I’d get in the tractor after him and the brake has been on for the last hour. That frustrated me. And he hated AC, so he’d open all the windows, filling the cab with dust. I’d roll my eyes.
Trail Baboon 